


Time of My Life

by Sparks (sparklepinkpixie)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Ballet, Alternate Universe - Dance, Ballet Dancer Yuri Plisetsky, Dance Instructor Victor, Dance instructor Otabek, Dirty Dancing, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Other Ships Not Mentioned in Tags, Rating May Change, Street Dancer Otabek Altin, Summer Camp, slightly OOC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-19
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:27:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23210176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklepinkpixie/pseuds/Sparks
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky has an image problem. Actually, he has a lot of problems, but he's certain they'll all be resolved when he receives his acceptance letter to attend Kellan's Summer School of Performing Arts.Jet-setting halfway across the world with your BFF to study under your idol should be the experience of a lifetime, but nothing seems to go as Yuri had hoped. His roommate is a nightmare, his best friend cares more about finding her summer fling than she does about her classes, his chances of being mentored by Victor-fucking-Nikiforov are at risk and Yuri can't seem to get away from this obnoxious asshole with a shitty attitude and a great ass.Or; The YOI, Dirty Dancing retelling nobody asked for.
Relationships: Otabek Altin & Yuri Plisetsky, Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Time of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> Oh hai.  
> I remember there was this one time where I thought I was somewhat half decent at writing. How long this took me proved me wrong. Rip.  
> I started writing this over a year ago; I stopped when I realised it was awful; I started again because I'm a sucker for punishment.
> 
> I hope y'all like something about it and if you, lemme know in the comments, I'd actually be super grateful for that.  
> And if anyone finds any spelling or grammatical errors lemme know, I've been writing this in caffeine-fueled 2 am stints because I'm a mess. Thanks.
> 
> I dedicate this, as always to my BFF and soulmate Carrie, and to my Hellions. Thank you all for being the most incredible found family <3

~"Hey everybody, this is your cousin Brucie…!"~

A fervent voice crackled through the radio speakers.

~"Our summer romances are in full bloom, and everybody, yes everybody's in love! So cousins, here's a great song from the Four Seasons."~

A rattling of drums and voices rang out in perfect harmony.

_~"Big girls don't cry- Big girls don't cry-"_

A smiling family of four drove along the smooth country roads, enjoying the song, the scenery and the simplicity of their lives.

"That was the summer of 1963... when everybody called me "Baby" and it didn't occur to me to mind.

That was before President Kennedy was shot… before the Beatles came… when I couldn't wait to join the Peace Corps… and I thought I'd never find a guy as great as my dad.

That was the Summer we went to Kellerman's."

"Miiilaaa!" a voice groaned out from the lithe figure draped over the expanse of the plush, leather sofa opposite the redhead. "Why the fuck are we watching this? Again?" The figure grit out in protest.

"Oh come on Yuri, lighten up. If we get accepted, this could be us in a few weeks time."

Yuri lifted his head to glare at the screen as the family were ushered from their car and greeted by the owner and staff of a large family holiday camp.

Fuck Dirty Dancing. Yuri hated this stupid movie.

"What do you mean **IF** we get accepted? Maybe you have to worry about this shit, but I'm a fucking natural. They should be begging _me_ to join this camp, not the other way around."

The camp was an eight-week-long Summer School of Performing Arts. People from all across the globe were vying for the chance to head out to The States and learn from the best in their field. For Yuri and Mila, that someone was the veritable God of ballet himself; Victor Nikiforov.

If he were honest with himself - for once - Yuri would admit to the cold clawing nervousness inching its way along his spine with every passing day. He huffed and dropped his head back down to the arm of the sofa, sun-kissed shoulder-length hair fanning around his head like a halo. He returned his attention to his phone, pulling up his camera and swiping through different filters until he found one that pasted a soft, white cat nose and ears across his features. He winked for the lens and poked his tongue from the side of his mouth. His fangirls ate that shit up.

The movie ambled on in the background as Yuri uploaded the selfie to his Instagram account. His varying social media pages had drawn quite the following last year after Mila persuaded him to upload a few videos of himself dancing in practice sessions. If those numbers happened to triple after Georgie posted a short clip of the blond flashing more skin than was likely necessary for the situation… well, it just made good sense to give his fans more of what they came for.

The more rabid female groupies had coined the moniker "Yuri's Angels" for themselves and had taken to calling Yuri "The Russian Fairy", much to his chagrin. They claimed the name perfectly encompassed his petite frame, his delicate features and porcelain complexion as well as the easy grace and elegance he exuded while he danced. Those who knew him on a personal level joked his name should be "The Russian _Punk_ " for his fuck you attitude and fondness for expletives. He didn't care much either way, so long as his platform gave him an edge to promote his talents.

The blond counted one… two... before his phone exploded with notifications for his latest post. The corners of his mouth quirked up as he read the comments that poured in:

_> >Too much beauty in one photo! :O <3_

_> >Wow you look so cool and beautiful <3<3<3 _

_> >All that sexy sass._

"Oh-oh-oh," Mila squawked and flailed her arms in his peripheral, pulling his attention to the television once more. "Here he comes!"

Patrick Swayze breezed onto the scene. His character easily radiated arrogance with his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses and a black leather jacket draped over one shoulder. At least Dirty Dancing had something going for it; Johnny Castle was a grade A sex God that Yuri wouldn't mind sinking his teeth into.

He surrendered his cell to his pocket in favour of watching. A few scene changes later and the blond was pulling himself into a sitting position, eyes glued to the screen as Baby wandered the paths toward the staff quarters, lured in by the clanging tones of Rock and Roll blaring from a large hall in the distance. He edged closer still when the doors to the hall were forced open and the scene unfolded to a mass of sensual, writhing bodies. Yuri was a great dancer, but this? He couldn't move like this if he tried. Yakov would have died of shame on the spot if any of his students had attempted it.

Their teacher was strict, but it paid off in the end. Each of his pupils was disciplined and precise in every sophisticated stretch and turn of their well-defined bodies. Under Yakov's guidance, he had become the perfect prodigy; the poster child of innocence and beauty. The money and fame it brought him were everything he had always wanted for himself, and yet - it showed nothing of the person he really wanted to be.

Yuri was a different person now than when he began his training. His body had changed, his style had evolved, his preferences and tastes in almost every aspect of his life had matured. Still, no matter how much he had changed, the persona he projected on stage remained. He was still the Russian Fairy.

He could at least get behind The Russian Punk. Rebellious, dangerous, sexy, masculine… fucking cool. Anything other than pretty or beautiful or elegant. He was 19 now; he was a fucking man and he wanted to be seen as one.

The irony of his inner tantrum was _not_ lost on him.

"Alright you layabouts, mail's here!" The doors to the lounge burst open as Yakov marched into the room, Georgi clambering at his heels.

Mila made a grab for the T.V remote and silenced the movie as Yakov handed each of them small, neatly stacked bundles. Amongst the piles, were three identical envelopes.

Both Mila and Georgi tossed all other letters aside, zeroing in on their targets. The brunet threw himself down beside the redhead. They glanced at each other in reassurance, nodding their confirmation when they were both ready. After a rushed count to 3, a harsh ripping echoed through the small room.

The female screamed after a moment and hopped up onto the seat, clutching the letter to her body like a lifeline.

Georgi's slipped from his hand and fluttered gently to the floor. He sniffed, swiped his hand across his eyes and stood abruptly.

"Who needs this dumb course anyway," he sobbed before rushing from the room.

"Georgi!" Both Yakov and Mila called out as they scrambled after the boy through the door and into the hallway.

Yuri was alone.

He systematically spread his mail across the coffee table, placing the largest - and most anticipated - letter last.

Junk mail, coupons, phone bill, a small care package from his Grandfather… he carefully read each and every syllable of each and every letter, holding off until the last possible moment before unsealing his fate.

Victor Nikiforov. Victor fucking Nikiforov. Every second of work he'd put into his training in the past year was leading to Victor. Learning from his idol would be the change he needed to get his head back in the game. He had to make it through.

His fingers trembled as he reached out and carefully lifted the sleek manila envelope. Victor, Victor, Victor… The name rang out like a broken record in his mind.

He inhaled, holding his breath for 6, 7, 8 seconds, then let it all go as he sliced into the paper and tore the letter free.

_Dear Mister Plisetsky, we thank you for your interest and subsequent application to Kellan's Summer School of Performing Arts. As you may well be aware…_

"Yeah yeah, get to the good part already." Yuri's eyes skimmed over the rest of the page, rushing toward the answer.

_We would like to formally congratulate you and personally offer you a place in our Summer Dance Programme._

_Sincerely_

_Lilia Baranovskaya, Principal of Performing Arts_

\---

_~"Bigs girls don't cry- Big girl's don't cry-"_

The song blared from the earbud he was currently sharing with his teammate.

"Miiilaa! Stop trying to turn this fucking trip into Dirty Dancing!"

The redhead pouted and draped her arm around his neck, pulling him closer than he was comfortable.

"But we're nearly there spoilsport, look. You can see the entry sign already. Beside's, I want to meet my very own Patrick Swayze and this will set the tone in what's sure to be a summer of lurid romance," her eyebrows lifted suggestively.

"So you're saying you want to be Baby?"

She nodded enthusiastically.

"You're saying you want to be a 17-year-old girl, who gives up her virginity to an older guy she only just met a week ago? Your idea of romance is a fucking tragedy and a literal crime in most countries."

"Oh please," she cooed "like either of us have anything to give up anyway. The walls of our dorms are paper-thin my friend. You can't exactly school me in romance. I've heard every single detail of your depraved love life. Where do you even find some of those girls you've brought home?" Mila continued to tease Yuri by reenacting a particularly vocal brunette he brought back after a long night slinging back shots.

Their cab rolled to a stop in the centre of a large ring of buildings. A flurry of people bustled around the open grounds, flitting cases from cars to sidewalks and buildings. Staff members with clipboards called out instructions and people screamed and hugged when they spotted an old friend in the distance. Yuri paid the driver and hopped out to help Mila with their luggage.

They were currently stood in front of a large reception office where people were queuing to check-in. To the left there appeared to be an even bigger dining hall and kitchen, and to the right, a massive common room with sofas, T.Vs, vending machines, games tables and arcade machines. Opposite the reception office, was a giant outdoor stage with arena-style seating in the front. Scattered behind the ring, they could see cabins and studios stretching back as far as their eyes could see.

They slowly made their way to the front of the queue and gave their names to receive their room assignments and class itineraries.

The girl behind the desk smiled cheerfully and said "Orientation begins at noon. Each of the instructors and staff will be introduced and you'll be given a short run through the rules of the camp. Welcome to Kellan's."

\---

Yuri and Mila parted ways to find their respective cabins. Each one housed two students who were picked at random. Finding his door number, Yuri fished the key from his pocket and wriggled it into the lock.

"I've got it." A high male voice shouted excitedly from the other side of the door. It swung open to reveal a tall Japanese man in his mid to late 20s, with shaggy black hair and large blue framed glasses.

"Hi, you must be Yuri. I'm Yuuri!" the man smiled and held out his hand.

The blond creased his brows in confusion.

"Heh, isn't that funny that we both share the same first name. Maybe the roommate process isn't as random as they made out. I'm Yuuri Katsuki, but you can just call me Katsuki to save any trouble."

"Hey, nice to meet you." Yuri sighed and took the man's outstretched hand, shaking it once before pulling away. He wasn't sure what to make of the guy, but he had a habit of making a terrible first impression on people so he decided to play as nice as he could and hold judgement for now.

"So, I hear you're a Ballet Dancer from Russia... I googled your name as soon as I saw the room assignment. You've got a pretty impressive name for yourself already. At such a young age too. You're lucky."

Yuri's eye twitched and his gut clenched in annoyance.

Luck? Luck had nothing to do with it. Yuri worked his ass off.

"Yeah. Lucky." Yuri deadpanned, "do you have a preference of which side of the room you want?"

"Oh, ah, no you go ahead and choose. I haven't even begun to unpack with all the excitement. I can't believe we get to meet Victor Nikiforov."

Yuri wheeled his cases to the left side of the room and dumped his bag onto the bed.

"I'm a Ballet Dancer too, though I did take some years away from it to go to college. It was tough getting into good enough shape to make it here. But I made it."

The other man continued to mumble on as Yuri pulled his possessions from his bags and set up his side of the room, humming and nodding in response to Katsuki's incessant chatter.

\---

_> >Saved you a seat. Third row from the front. Find me. Victor has just arrived and I might hyperventilate without help. x_

Yuri ditched his roommate at the entrance to the staging area and hurried to the front where he spotted the redhead frantically fanning herself. He pushed past a sea of other students before he made it to his seat and collapsed into it.

"My roommate is a literal fucking nightmare! Where's Victor." Yuri sat straighter and scanned the stage.

"He's right there - " Mila pointed to the right of the front row "and you're roommate can't have pissed you off already, we've been separated less than an hour."

Yuri stretched and bobbed his head until he had a clear view. Victor fucking Nikiforov. He cringed inwardly at the name, thinking it best he drop the "fucking" before he said it out loud to the man.

Victor was taller in person than Yuri could have imagined. Though, at only 5'4, most men were taller than him.

He watched Victor talk and laugh with a group of men and woman who appeared to be other members of staff while Mila pointed to others in the crowd she recognised from social media and well known touring companies.

A tall, stern-looking woman with hawkish features and dark hair pulled into a high, tight bun made her way to the side of the stage as most of the seats were filling with students.

The droll of a thousand conversations continued on around them as the final preparations were made on stage.

A roaring engine in the distance cut through the din of the noise, pulling Yuri's attention away from Victor. A few heads turned to watch a sleek, black and chrome Harley Davidson roll up to the entrance of the reception. A man, dressed in ripped black jeans, heavy black combat boots and a black leather biker jacket swung from the saddle and pulled the helmet off, shaking loose long dark spikes of hair that slicked back against an undercut styled around the back and sides. The stranger, who could have only had 2-3 inches on Yuri had an impressive presence for someone of his height. He tossed the helmet down to his saddle and jogged halfway through the seating area before strolling to the second row and sidling into a seat in front of Yuri, fist-bumping the guy to his left.

"Who's that?" Yuri whispered to Mila.

"Attractive!" She declared too loudly. "And my Patrick if I have anything to say about it."

The man, who Yuri noticed up close couldn't be much older than he was, turned his head, winked and smirked at Mila before turning toward the stage and casually slumping down in his chair and talking animately with his friend.

Mila stifled a hiccup as her face blushed hard enough to match her hair.

"Yuri I think I'm love…" she whispered and dramatically clutched at her chest earning a hard elbow to her ribs from her friend.

The stern-looking woman finally took to the stage and introduced herself as Lilia Baranovskaya. She welcomed everyone to the programme and made a speech about how this was everyone's chance to show the world what they were made of. At the end of the 8 weeks, a show would be held, attended by industry pros looking for the best and most exciting talents. Top performers from each class would be able to put together their own exhibition piece. Yuri would make sure he was one of them.

He scanned the crowd, noting how everyone was smiling and nodding along. His eyes caught once more on the man slumped in front of him. With the short distance between them, Yuri could see several piercings curving around the man's ears and what looked to be the edges of a tattoo creeping up the side of his neck. Yuri felt a pang of envy. From his appearance, this guy was everything the blond wanted to be. He was fucking cool, calm and collected... and he looked as bored Yuri felt. It would appear he'd heard Lilia's health and safety speech a million times over or had better places to be.

Yuri's snorted a small laugh, instantly drawing the guys attention. He turned to look over his shoulder and caught Yuri's gaze. His eyes raked down the length of Yuri's body and back to his face before his lips quipped into a lazy smile. Yuri narrowed his eyes at the man as he turned away to face the stage once more.

What the hell was that about?

"Your free time after your allotted classes are your own. If you wish to make use of the practice rooms during this time, speak to one of the instructors or assistants about obtaining entrance. Additionally, anyone wishing to partake in extra, private lessons can do so, though pricing and allotments for this extra time are at the discretion of each individual staff member. Of course, you are free to use this time for socialisation and exploration, however, I believe any of you aiming for an exhibition spot should be focussing their efforts on such.  
So," Lilia clapped her hands dramatically. "I think that quite covers everything. Without further adieu, I'd like to introduce you to your instructors for this year's programme…"

Each instructor and assistant rose from their chair to introduce themselves and say a little about which classes they would be handling.

It was then that Yuri caught onto a small fact. The first two rows were reserved for staff. There was no way that... 

When the stranger in front of him rose to his feet, Yuri had to crane his neck to look up at him. To his left, a towering, slim, dark-haired man rose and began to speak.

"Yo, s'up? Names Jean-Jaques Leroy, but you can call me JJ. I'll be teaching the programme on street dance this year. The main class is full, but anyone should feel free to approach me with any questions about lessons in their free time if you wanna learn from the best" He flashed a toothy grin to the crowd that had several girls blushing and sighing. Yuri hated him instantly. "And this shrimp beside me here is my second, Otabek Altin. He might look a little rough around the edges, but trust me, this guy can flip and spin circles around the best of them."

Otabek had his arms crossed over his chest, scowling at the masses. When he spoke, he did so with a deep, purring voice that dripped seduction with the slightest hint of an eastern accent on the vowels.

"And anyone wanting to actually learn something, and not deal with this jackass, come see me." His gaze drifted down to Yuri and the corner of his mouth lifted. "And, Call me Beck."

His eyes lingered on Yuri a moment too long, making the blond wriggle in his chair uncomfortably. He huffed a laugh and turned back into his seat, allowing the next group to say their piece.

Yuri dug his fingernails into his palms and leaned forward, unable to hold back.

He whispered into the man's ear "Hey, you got a problem with me, asshole?"

Otabek suppressed a grin. "Should you really be talking to a teacher that way?" he replied with an edge of humour.

"No, but I'm not exactly talking to a fucking teacher now am I?" Yuri growled.

A wide lazy grin spread across Otabeks face "You know you have a real dirty mouth for someone with such a pretty face, it's kind of a turn on."

Yuri gave a grunt "I'm not gay, asshole." Not a complete lie, but halfway there.

Otabek turned so he was face to face with Yuri. "Who said I was?"

"Then why the fuck are you hitting on me?"

"I didn't say I was straight, now, did I?"

Oh.

Yuri pursed his lips and levelled the guy his best death glare.

He _would_ have been attracted to the guy if he weren't such an insufferable shit-head.

"Look I just recognised you is all." Otabek offered in answer. "You're making quite the name for yourself, little Fairy."

Yuri's murderous intent pulsed from his clenched jaw to his narrowed eyes and clenched fists.

Otabek chuckled darkly "You shouldn't pout so much if you want to look threatening. You're far too cute when you pout."

Yuri threw himself back into his seat, scowl permanently held on Otabek as he turned back to the stage. He was so intent on burning a hole through the back of the smug pricks head that he hadn't noticed Victor rise from his place until he started to speak.

"Welcome everyone to this most prestigious place. I first and foremost want to congratulate you on making it here. What you have accomplished thus far is nothing short of excellence."

Yuri looked upon his idle with awe. Victor practically glowed with perfection and Yuri hung onto every word.

"For those of you who don't know me, my name is Victor Nikiforov. I have the greatest pride to say I hold the record as the youngest ever principal danseur with the Paris Opera Ballet and an even greater pleasure to announce that I now pass my knowledge on to each and every one of you who shall be attending my classes over the next 8 weeks. I'm sure you're all going to do wonderfully.

With regards to extracurriculars," Victor took a long moment to regard the crowd. "I take personal, one to one training very seriously. I train the best of the best and expect even greater than that from them at every turn. You will no longer be a mere student, but an apprentice. For this reason," he paused again and Yuri felt this icy prickle of nerves dance along his vertebrae once more, "I will only be taking on one student this year."

Yuri's breath caught in his throat. He couldn't be certain, but he was fairly convinced the ground beneath him had crumbled away and he would have fallen if he weren't grasping so tightly to Mila's hand.

Victor held off for a lifetime as hushed murmurs rippled through the crowd before he began to speak again. "During our first class, I will hold auditions and chose the placement from there. Thank you and welcome again."

_Fuck!_

_\---_

Yuri practically slammed his metal diner tray down on the counter, earning a few startled jumps from students dotted around the long table. Mila mouthed a quick "sorry" to the others as they scooted a little farther along to avoid the wrath of the seething Russian.

"One fucking apprentice! Can you fucking believe that?!" Yuri plopped heavily onto the bench, snatched his fork and ruthlessly began stabbing into the salad leaves on his plate.

"I don't know," Mila sighed "seems like a textbook Nikiforov power move if you ask me."

Yuri scanned the girl for a brief moment before he responded "Why are you not more pissed about this? The fact you're not more pissed about this is only pissing me off more!"

Mila glared, a forkful of grilled chicken frozen halfway to her mouth, her nose crinkled in confusion for a beat too long.

"Gah.." Yuri's utensils clattered to the tray and his fingers carded into his hair. Mila could feel the incoming meltdown buzzing in the air.

"Yuri! Baby, darling, sweet thing… you know I love you- but I'm afraid you're slipping over to the dark side." Her hand slid across the table, fingers tentatively reaching for him. "You know, like when you got really drunk that time at New Years and spent close to an hour screaming at your own shoelaces…" She teased a smile, trying to ease the tension around them.

"It's just-" his hands dropped helplessly to rest over the smaller one she held out to him. "We came all this way for this chance, and now… what? We have to face off against each other for a shot at this? It's bullshit!"

"Yuri," her fingers squeezed gently around his. "You know you're the best dancer I've seen, right? And I'm not just playing the obligatory best friend card here. You're incredible. Like…annoyingly so! You know you've got this in the bag."

"What about you, how is this even fair?"

"It's not like I won't get to work with the guy at all, I still have 8 weeks of classes to learn from him. Besides, unlike you, Victor wasn't my sole reason for wanting to come here."

Yuri scoffed, "what other reasons could you possibly have?"

"Patrick Swayze," the redhead deadpanned, "Obviously. _And_ spending quality time with my favourite surly blond of course!" Mila cooed poking her finger against the tip of his nose.

Yuri laughed, swatting her back to her side of the table. "Thanks, Mila."

"Anytime short stack," Mila smiled warmly and resumed picking at her food. "Now," she exclaimed too loudly. "That was all entirely too emotional for my liking; I heard a bunch of folks are headed down to the lake after dinner to toast marshmallows and mingle and shit. You in?"

Yuri exhaled and pushed his salad around the tray distractedly. "I think I'm just gonna head back to my room and get an early night."

"Whatever loser," she teased. "While you're locked up in your tower I'll be scoping out the competition."

Yuri couldn't be sure if the girl meant the other dancers or her next conquest.

"Maybe that Beck guy will be there," Mila whispered conspiratorially. "God, did you get a look at his ass? I'm not usually into shorter guys but… damn. The things I'd let that guy do to me…"

Yuri's lip curled and pushed his tray away. "The guy was an asshole. Besides he's an instructor. There's bound to be some kind of rules against that sort of thing."

The redhead bit her lip and hummed in approval. "That only makes it hotter!"

Yuri stood abruptly and sighed deeply. "I can't believe I hang out with you."

"Please, like you don't want on that dick?!"

Yuri swung his toned leg over the bench and began marching away. "You're an old hag and I hate you," he tossed over his shoulder to the cacophonous laughter of his friend.

\---

Yuri was restless. He'd planned to head back to his room and sleep off the growing headache behind his eyes but thought better of it when he recalled his roommate's incessant small talk.

He found himself, instead, wandering the winding paths of the campgrounds and learning his way around. The paths were quiet, likely most students were down by the lake or resting up after a long day of travel.

Nearing the end of a path, Yuri spotted a larger building off to the side with soft yellow lighting spilling from several of the first-floor windows. Curiously he made his way inside through the main doors and stopped abruptly when he heard voices and laughter from the room to his right. Carefully stepping forward, Yuri snuck a peek around the door frame and pulled himself back, flattening himself against the wall once he saw who was inside.

JJ, Otabek and a few others he knew to be staff were spread casually across several sofa's and armchairs, casually chatting and laughing away.

He'd been about to step away and leave through the door he'd come when he heard someone call Victor's name.

"Good evening all," Victors unmistakeable Russian drawl called out.

Unable to stop himself, Yuri slowly positioned himself so he could get Victor into his line of vision without giving away his presence.

"So, Vic," JJ lolled his head back into the sofa cushions, "I hear you've got a little prodigy in your class. A… Yuri something or other?"

A jolt of electricity coursed through Yuri's limbs and he slapped his hand across his mouth to stifle any sound he may have made.

Victor perked up in his chair. "Ah, you mean Yuuri Katsuki? He really is quite something. Lilia and I accepted his application the moment we saw his audition tape. I think he's going to be wonderful."

Yuri deflated. Katsuki? Really? How good could the guy be? He didn't look anything special, that was for sure.

"He means Yuri Plisetsky." Otabek's bored tone cut through Victor's enthusiasm from his sofa.

Yuri's attention quickly turned to the brunet who's booted feet were propped up onto the coffee table at the centre with arms crossed firmly across his chest.

"Yeah, the little blondie from orientation." JJ piped in. "He's pretty cute too. If you're into that sort of thing."

Otabek quickly swivelled his head to eye his work-mate with curiosity.

"Hey, I'm a one- _woman_ kinda guy", JJ defended. "I mean you kind of people", he gestured between Otabek and Victor.

Otabek planted his feet loudly onto the wood flooring and leaned threateningly toward JJ, elbows propped on his knees and fingers linked under his chin.

"And what kind of people would that be, JJ." His voice dipped menacingly low and Yuri felt a thrilling pulse down his back.

He couldn't believe he was overhearing this. He _shouldn't_ be overhearing this. He _should_ have walked away the moment he realised he wasn't meant to be there in the first place.

JJ raised his hands in a defensive, placating manner. "Man, you know I'm cool. Besides," he added with a glint of mischief in his broad smile. "I wasn't the one drooling over myself and eye-fucking the guy. That was _all_ _you_ buddy!"

Otabek's scoff cut loudly through JJ's triumphant laughter as he threw himself back into his original sitting position.

"Whatever man, the guy was a total punk. You're gonna have your hands full Nikiforov. Better you than me", his voice returned to its usual growl.

_If I'm a punk, this guy's an asshole!_ Yuri thought furiously to himself.

"Gentlemen, I certainly hope you're not referring to a relationship with a student?", Victor cut into the bickering. "You know that it's strictly forbidden. Lilia's orders."

JJ snorted. "Yeah but, that only makes it hotter!"

Yuri was surrounded by idiots.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks again if you made it this far. I love you for that.  
> More to come... hopefully soon.


End file.
